


Eventually

by Aida



Series: John Watson is Dr. Dolittle [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, John talks to animals, John's still not crazy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:29:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... He would find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suspicion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonrose91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/gifts).



> Oh goodness, it's been AGES since I updated this. I meant to post it yesterday, but:
> 
> 1) It took a LOT longer than I originally predicted, and
> 
> 2) My family had it in their minds that I couldn't stay in my room for extended periods of time, where my computer is.
> 
> For Moonrose91 because she asked so nicely.

For the past several months, life at 221b Baker Street went on as normal. Well, as normal as life could be with a consulting detective who liked to conduct peculiar experiments and play the violin at odd hours of the night; a no-longer-stray calico that very much claimed to be the true ruler of the domain; and an ex-army doctor who worked with said detective and could communicate with said cat, along with being able to communicate with all animals in general. 

For the first few weeks, John was sure that Sherlock would find out his odd not-so-little secret. Cass, despite her affection towards Sherlock, was an endless chatterbox. Always making conversation whenever John was in the house. She did keep to his rules, allowing him to ignore her when someone was around, like Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, or the odd chances that Mycroft was around. Still, she would always make commentary, and it was sometimes rather difficult for him to keep a straight face. Sherlock had sometimes shot him peculiar looks, but he never brought it up. Either he knew and was waiting for him to finally admit it himself, or he really didn’t know and was possibly trying to puzzle it out.

Either way, John was still a little surprised at how well Cass and Sherlock got along. He was sure he would’ve tired of her, but he never did. In fact, he once tried to bring her along to a crime scene before Lestrade could nip that idea in the butt. Lestrade wasn’t a genius like Sherlock or Mycroft, but he could tell when Sherlock was lying about Cass being a sniffer cat. Lestrade also seemed to like Cass, but judging by the way his eyes would water and how violent his sneezes would get, John knew that the DI cat lover was allergic. 

Things went well, and John wasn’t as fearful as he used to be about a bunch of men in white coats carting him away. That Sherlock would wise up and immediately react in a negative way. 

Of course, things were bound to happen to change that. Things that would raise Sherlock’s suspicions and cause him to realize what it was that John was hiding. 

The first time it happened was when someone walked in, offering Sherlock a mystery to solve. She seemed rather nice, though a bit loud and sporting far too much lipstick. Apparently, the case had something to do with her recently-deceased husband. John wanted to pay further attention to it, but he was quite distracted.

His distraction? The woman brought her dog.

John had no idea what specific breed it was. All he knew was that it had incredibly long fur, and that chaos would erupt the moment they stepped inside.

Sure enough, the moment Mrs. Hudson opened the door, Cass shot up from her spot on the sofa.

“I smell dog.” She said flatly as John put out the chair. “John, why do I smell dog?”

John merely sent her a look, since Sherlock was just entering the sitting room, no longer in his robe and adjusting his suit. Thankfully, he didn’t have to answer, for they could easily hear the excited chatter growing louder as the woman and dog walked up the stairs.

The chatter, John knew, came from the dog.

“Hi! Hello! Hello, new people!” It cheered. “Oh, such new smells! I don’t think I’ve ever smelt anything like this in my life!”

“ _Dog_!” Cass shouted in alarm, leaping from the couch and onto John’s shoulders, causing him to wince.

“ _Cat_!” The dog cried in delight, dancing around John’s feet and staring up at Cass. “Cat! Cat, let’s play! I want to play with you!”

“ _No._ ” She hissed, literally. “Now, leave me alone!”

“Elliot!” The woman reprimanded, yanking on the dog’s leash and bringing it back to her feet. “I am so sorry about that. He can be quite… excitable.”

“Indeed.” John heard Sherlock grouse, and he winced when he pulled Cass from his shoulder. 

“John!” Cass snarled, fur fluffed and eyes alight with fury. “John, you get that dog out of here right _now_!”

“Kitty! Mama, I wanna play with the kitty!” Elliot continued, tugging on their leash to try and get at Sherlock now.

“Elliot, stop! Listen to your mama!” She demanded. “Oh, I really am terribly sorry. He’s usually not like this! He’s very well behaved most of the time!”

“Yes, but _Elliot_ has never been around cats before.” Sherlock continued, trying to soothe Cass and trying to keep her from shredding his suit in her attempts to flee.

“Why-No, he’s been around cats, but-!”

“Elliot!”

Everyone turned to look at John as he spoke to the small dog, even Elliot. 

“Human?” Elliot inquired.

“Elliot, _sit_.”

“Oh, okay!” The dog said as he did just that. “Hey, do you understand me? Can you just tell them I want to play with the kitty?”

“Tell that idiot that the kitty does _not_ want to play with him!” Cass snarled. “And Sherlock, let me go! If that dog’s going to be here, then I’m _not!_ ”

“That’s wonderful!” The woman cheered, beaming, and John had to fight the urge to cringe when he saw hints of lipstick on her teeth. “I don’t think Elliot has ever taken commands from anyone besides me and my late husband!”

John doesn’t even spare Sherlock a glance, knowing that his flatmate was clearly irked at the woman’s grammar. 

“Well, look,” He said, taking a struggling Cass from Sherlock and allowing her to nestle into his shoulder. “Why don’t I just put Cass in the back bedroom temporarily, and then we can discuss the case, alright?”

“But John-!” Cass whined as John began to walk off, only to be stopped by Sherlock’s hand on his elbow.

“John, we shouldn’t have to do that.” The consulting detective stated quietly. 

“Sherlock,” John chided. “Plenty of people have had to put their pets in their bedrooms for company before. This is no exception.”

“This is Cass’s home just as it is ours.” Sherlock stated. Still quiet, but firm, and John was reminded of the fact that the man was quite assertive when it came to dealing with their cat. “She shouldn’t have to be tossed into a corner just because a woman has brought her dog.”

“She’s freaking out, Sherlock!” He hissed back. “What would you have me do? Let her go and have those two wreck our flat beyond repair?”

“You could always just kick the dog out.” Cass butted in, hissing when John gently pinched her leg. “Ow!”

“Why don’t you just offer to take the dog out for a walk, or… something.” Sherlock cut in, waving a hand towards said dog as it panted, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “I’ll just text you when the briefing is over.”

“I don’t think she’d be comfortable with-.”

“Oh, I don’t mind!” The woman cut in, and John flushed when he realized she was listening in. “I mean, as long as it isn’t too much trouble for you two...”

John bit back a tired sigh before handing Cass back to Sherlock, who took her with a smirk. “Very well.” He muttered before flashing a winning smile. “Just a quick walk around the block, then.”

“Great!” The woman jeered, handing the leash off to John’s waiting hand. “Just be quick, and don’t let him get into any trash, or anything! And don’t be afraid to be a little aggressive! That’s the only way he listens, sometimes!”

John fought the urge to slap the woman for her stupidity, and managed to just keep smiling. “We’ll be back before you know it!”

“Be good for the kind man, Elliot!” The woman cooed. “Don’t you worry, now, dear!”

“You’re taking me for a walk, human?” Elliot asked. “Yay! I love walks!”

“I shall pray for you, John.” Cass called as John merely grit his teeth and walked out of his flat door.

As soon as the door closed, Elliot paused on the steps and turned to him. “Can she hear me?”

John blinked, shaking his head, and his eyebrows shot up when Elliot let out a tired sigh. 

“Thank _god_!” He cried. “Do you know how tiring it is to play the hyper puppy? Doing tricks and acting like an idiot for her? Ugh! Okay, let’s get going. I need to take a piss like nobody’s business!”

He bit back a grin, leading the dog down the steps and out the front door.

“Okay, over there. Over there!” Elliot said in a hurried voice, and John rushed him towards the side of the building, averting his eyes when the dog lifted his leg. “Oh, sweet mercy, that’s good! I’ve been holding this in for ages!”

“Glad I could be of assistance.” John replied, keeping his voice subdued enough so no passerby would hear him.

“You can understand me, can’t you?” The dog asked once he was done, kicking his hind legs back. “Like, I’m talking, and you can actually hear me.”

John nodded a little, looking own at the dog. “I can.” 

“Good, because I’ve got some things that I want you to tell that detective guy that’s working on my mom’s case.” Elliot said firmly.

He blinked. “Really?” He asked. “What kind of things?”

“Let’s go for that walk.” Elliot said, completely off topic and leading the charge. “I’ll talk along the way.”

For the first few minutes of their walk, the dog said nothing, clearly more focused on smelling every little bit of the pavement he could and shouting at the cars and taxis that drove by. Despite the delay, John waited patiently. He knew that animals could become quite bull-headed when it came certain topics. If he pressed too hard, Elliot was bound to refuse to talk to him, and it would take a lot of human food to convince him otherwise. John wasn’t prepared to deal with the aftermath caused by that kind of mistake.

“You probably know why my mother came to you guys, right?” Elliot finally asked.

John nodded. “She suspects her husband didn’t commit suicide, but so do the police.” He answered. “Of course, they think she did it, and a lot of the evidence supports that theory, but they don’t have the right piece that would enable them to make an arrest, which is a large sum of money that was withdrawn from his account.”

“They think she took it and hid it somewhere.” Elliot cut in. “Load of crap, by the way. I know for a fact that she didn’t do it.”

“She thinks his mistress did it.” John said, nodding, only to freeze when the dog gave him a look.

“He had no mistress.” The dog revealed. “Trust me, no matter how hard a man could clean himself, a dog can still smell those things. He didn’t have one. Not to mention that my parents loved each other.”

“They were married for thirty-five years.” John argued. “A lot can change.”

“When you marry a woman regardless of the fact that she can’t give you the family you always wanted, and then _stay_ with said woman, you love her.” Elliot said. “I’ve heard him say that on a number of occasions, trust me. I’ve also heard some interesting little bits of information that could help you track down my father’s killer.”

“What’s that?”

“Phone calls.” The dog answered. “My dad had a business line at home, and I’ve heard him argue with someone multiple times. Telling them to ‘stop calling him’, and to ‘get out of our lives’. I think a ‘I don’t love you’ or two was tossed around as well. Those calls really scared my dad.”

John frowned, truly puzzled, even ignoring the way Elliot began to sniff his boots. Eventually, his phone went off and he saw that Sherlock was quite ready for them to return, so he guided the small dog back towards 221. 

“There’s my baby!” The woman cooed, and Elliot immediately ran for her. “Oh, I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Oh, not at all.” John assured. “He was a very good dog!”

“That’s wonderful!” She cried, scooping Elliot up. “I think this calls for steak tonight!”

“Oh thank heavens!” Elliot cried with joy. “I haven’t had a good steak dinner in _ages_!”

“I want steak…” Cass muttered, sulking on her place on the mantle. “Think I deserve it.”

John merely sent her a side-glance, for they had such a conversation before. In fact, he had given her steak once, long before Mike introduced him to Sherlock.

It had not gone well.

“Well, you have my information.” The woman concluded. “Oh, I do hope you can figure it out, Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson. It would finally put Elliot and I at ease.”

“Yes, very well.” Sherlock replied airily as he turned away from her. “I’ll get to work as soon as possible. When we solve it, you will be the first to know. Now, I believe you know the way out…”

“Sherlock!” John chastised, but the woman waved him off.

“It’s alright. I can tell he’s a busy man. My husband was just like that.” She assured before heading out. “Come on, Elliot! Say ‘thank you’ to the nice men!”

“I’m getting steak!”

“Good boy!”

John waited, hearing them walk down the steps and out of the flat, before turning to Sherlock as he sat in his chair, hands steepled.

“What do you think?” He finally asked. 

“She’s a delusional woman if she thinks her husband was ever truly that loyal.” Sherlock remarked. “Clearly, he had a lover who killed him and took the money for themselves. Now, we just have to track them down.”

John frowned, for that didn’t sound like anything that Elliot said at all. Animals were a lot of things, but being liars wasn’t one of them. 

“Are you sure?” John pressed. “You didn’t know the man, and you can’t really judge after just meeting the woman once.”

“She had lipstick on her teeth-.”

“-And she was very polite, and did her best to keep her dog under control. She was a nice enough woman, Sherlock. That, and judging by her email, she and her husband loved each other dearly.” He cut in, and Sherlock sent him a look that caused him to raise his hands in defense. “Look, I’m not ruling out that there wasn’t some third party, but perhaps you should look further into it before jumping to conclusions. Maybe check up where he worked? See what was going there.”

Sherlock was frowning now. “I was just about to.” He muttered, and John swallowed, because he knew that stare. It was the stare Sherlock gave something, or someone, when he was trying to puzzle something together about them. Like they gave him a tiny hint to something and he was trying to work out the rest. 

“Alright, then.” John finally replied. “I’m going to make tea.”

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise in response, and John tried to act as nonchalant as possible under his gaze, cursing himself for talking far too much about what he knew. What he wasn’t supposed to know normally. 

As he set the kettle to boil and pulled out their mugs and tea, Cass left her sulking spot and joined him, leaping onto the counter.

“Code time?” She asked, referring to the system they created to communicate when someone was in the room or just nearby in general. “One tap yes, two taps no.”

John rested his hands on the counter, tapping once with his index finger.

“That mutt knew something, didn’t he?” Cass asked, and John sent her a look. “Oh, fine. That _dog_ knew something.”

One tap.

“And he told you why his dad wouldn’t have someone on the side? That it might’ve been about something not-so-good?”

One tap.

“And now you can’t tell Sherlock what you know, because then that would mean telling him about your gift.”

One tap.

“See, this is why you should’ve told him, for moments just like this.” Cass ranted. “I even told you the first night I was here, didn’t I? But _no_ , you didn’t listen! You’re a human male, after all. Why the hell would you listen to the female?”

John just sent her a look. 

“Fine, whatever. Don’t listen to me just because I’m a cat.” She groused. “But don’t you want to tell him now?”

Two taps this time, and he watched as Cass flopped down.

“But why?” She whined. “You trust each other completely! This couldn’t be any different, could it?”

John pursed his lips, because he knew for a fact that she was wrong. That it could be different, be _very_ different. It could all go downhill, and all because he happened to be able to do something no one else in the world could. By his knowledge, anyway.

“Just tell me this,” She pressed. “Do you really want to keep this a secret for as long as you’re in each other’s lives?”

He let out a long breath before tapping out his answer.

His two-tap answer.

“Then I suggest you work out how to tell him, and soon. He’s already growing suspicious, and he’s currently watching us for some reason.” She informed before pawing at his fingers playfully. “Now pet my head so he’ll stop watching us.”

John snorted and did just that, hearing her purr loudly before she abruptly pulled away.

“Also, take a bath.” She sneered, sticking her bum in the air before leaping off the counter and onto the ground. “You reek of that stupid dog.”


	2. Of Strange Witnesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John gets followed by a rather odd witness, and Sherlock has a peculiar fear.
> 
> Also, ducks aren't chickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I could. That is all I'll say for now.

“John?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a duck following you.”

John didn’t even spare his friend or the feathered creature behind him a glance, partially because he didn’t want to check, and also because he knew Sherlock was right.

It had been weeks since they solved their previous case (Elliot’s “father” did have a stalker who had a hacker for a brother who brainwashed a lot of people into thinking they were in love and would run away together), and since then, things only went slightly back to the norm for the residents of Baker Street. Sherlock seemed to want to keep a closer eye on John, but he was able to do what he could to not raise any more suspicion. 

Unfortunately, if an animal can find someone who they could communicate with, they were bound to find him and follow him until he stopped to listen. 

Hence the duck.

“I don’t think he’s following me.”

“John, we have been walking for two blocks, and it’s still behind you.”

“Is this why we haven’t stopped for a cab, yet?” John asked, stopping to look at his friend. 

Sherlock merely looked down at the duck that had paused a few feet away. “It’s fascinating, really. Besides, I feared that it would try and get into the cab with us.”

John quirked an eyebrow. “Sherlock Holmes,” He spoke slowly. “Are you afraid of ducks?”

Said man scoffed, but John noticed his cheeks dusting lightly with pink. “Don’t be absurd.” He stated. “They’re just disgusting creatures that will attack your face if you get too close. Vile things. I don’t know why anyone likes them.”

John sighed, looking down at the duck in question. “Well, it could be a different one.”

“No, it’s the same.” Sherlock corrected. “Do you have any food on you? Perhaps it smells it.”

“Wha-? No! I have nothing!” John protested. “Honestly, I don’t know why it’s following us!”

“I’m here,” The duck responded. “To report a murder.”

John tried to school his features as best he could at the words the creature spoke. Of all the times Cass’s “I told you so”s would ring through his head, it was at this time they were the loudest. Because if that duck was at all correct, and perhaps wasn’t out to demand justice for one of his feathered friends getting hit by a car or shot, now would be a wonderful time for Sherlock to magically know John could communicate with animals and be completely understanding about it. 

“John?”

Said man blinked up at his friend. “Sorry?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Wha-? Oh, no.” John answered. “I just kinda… hoped that maybe I could unnerve the thing… Or something…”

His friend made a noncommittal noise just as his phone blared a different one. “Well, Lestrade has perfect timing. We have a case!” Sherlock stated, waving his phone about. “And it’s not far from here. Perhaps we could bring the duck with us? It’s bound to make a better worker than Anderson.”

“If it’s the man in the polka-dot trousers, that’s the one.” The duck stated. “Don’t worry, I’ll meet you there!”

John just ran off with his friend, hoping that the duck honestly wouldn’t. He just hoped that they weren’t going where he thought they were. They probably wouldn’t, though, for who in their right mind would have polka-dots on their trousers?

**xxx**

The victim had polka-dots on his trousers.

John tried not to curse his luck as Sherlock scanned the crime scene, all the while telling Anderson to stop trying to get back inside as the head of forensics was stuck outside, glowering and cold.

He rubbed at his face, waiting to look at the body himself, because he couldn’t believe his luck. Because while Lestrade had said that his team couldn’t find any witnesses, he could. Unfortunately, he doubted that a duck was really a viable witness. At least in their eyes. Of course, he never thought, as a young child talking to the neighbors’ dogs, that he would be meeting any animals that could one day help him on his job. Or rather, help Sherlock with his.

“John!”

He shook his head, burying his thoughts away for later. Hopefully never to think on them again. If anything, Sherlock was getting more and more suspicious by the day, and if he didn’t want to be ousted in public, he needed to focus. Now, that meant looking at a body and figuring out how exactly he died.

But just as he knelt down to get a closer look, he felt something land next to his hip. Something soft, with feathers that brushed his leg.

“What the bloody-!” He heard Lestrade snap as he turned to see what it was. “How the hell did that duck get in here!?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Anderson shouted from outside. “But no, of course you don’t want to hear me tell you that there’s a duck trying to get in! You just wanted to kick me out! Stubborn thing, too! I tried chasing it off, but it just kept coming back!”

“Shut up, Anderson!” Sherlock snapped, and John looked from the duck on his shoulder up to his friend. “John, I don’t want to alarm you, but I believe that’s the same duck-.”

“Sherlock,” John cut in. “I highly doubt that he followed us all the way here.”

“But I did!” The duck interjected. “And you came! I knew you would.”

John sent the duck a look as discreetly as possible as Lestrade tried to get someone in to, at least, chase the duck away. Or at least try to. Again.

“Oh, so the cat was right: No one knows that you can talk to us.” The duck continued, and John silently cursed Cass to high heaven. “Well, I know who killed him. It was his friend. Sad, too. He always gave me bread.”

“John, perhaps if you don’t look at it, it will go away.” Sherlock cut in. 

“If you want it to go away, why don’t you come and chase it off, then?” He replied, and Sherlock sent him a dark look. “Oh, I forgot. You don’t like ducks.”

“Of course I don’t, they- _John_ , it’s trying to bite you.”

He turned back towards the duck that was gently pecking at his jacket, _not_ bitting, and the duck turned its head towards a far corner of the room.

“He left something. Or took it. I couldn’t really tell.” The duck explained. “Over there! Come see!”

The duck ruffled its feathers slightly before waddling over towards the far wall. It began to paw (did ducks paw at things?) at the floor, and John frowned, for he thought he saw a piece of the floorboard moving.

“What’s it doing now?” Lestrade asked as John stood to move to where the duck was trying to get in. “Digging for bugs?”

“I don’t know…” He replied, bending down again. “But I think-Ah… Sherlock, I think you’d better come see this.”

Sherlock frowned, because he didn’t seem to want to be anywhere near John’s new friend. Still, he approached, looking as if he wanted to keep as far away as possible. As soon as he was close, John managed to pull the floorboard lose, revealing a large duffel bag.

“Ah…” The consulting detective mused, pulling the duffel bag out. “The duck was certainly digging for something, and I believe… yes!”

“What is it?” Lestrade demanded, walking over, freezing when Sherlock pulled out a rather dazzling diamond necklace.

“I believe you were working on a case regarding a robbery. The victim was one of the robbers, and he was clearly trying to hand himself in.” Sherlock explained, rifling through the bag. “Yes, see? He has a mobile in here. He used this to contact the others. Go through the phone, and I’m sure you’ll find the killer in his contacts. Not to mention the rest of his little circus troupe. John, we’re done here. Now say goodbye to your… little friend.”

“Really?” John asked flatly as they stood.

“Perhaps if you talk to it, it’ll finally leave us alone.” His friend replied. “You’re not allowed to come back to the flat unless you get rid of it!”

John glared. “Hardly my fault.” He muttered before looking at the duck. “Well, er… bye…?”

“Goodbye, Mister Doctor! Glad I could be of service!” The duck proclaimed. “I shall take my leave, but before I do, I have a message for you to deliver to Cass.”

John blinked, even as the duck hopped onto a window sill.

“Tell Cass that her eyes are more brilliant than any gem, and her fur is more luxurious than silk!” The duck stated, sounding rather wistful and making it rather hard for John to control his expression. “Well, ta!”

**xxx**

“Well, did you solve another case?”

John nodded as Cass sat on the table next to his computer. He didn’t have much to worry about, as Sherlock’s lack of sleep had finally caught up with him, and Mrs. Hudson was out with her book club. 

“We even met a friend of yours.” He replied, looking at her. “A duck. Didn’t catch a name, though. He helped us out and everything.”

Cass chortled. “That was probably Billy.” She explained. “Sweet guy. I saved him from a dog before I met you.”

“Really?” He asked. “I always thought you made meals out of guys like, er… Billy.”

“Me? Eat ducks? Pah!” Cass scoffed, stretching out a bit. “I was always meant for a better life, John. My tastes have always been more refined.”

John snorted lightly, and Cass retorted by knocking a couple of books off the table. “Oh, stop!” He cried, bending down to scoop them back up. “By the way, he had a message for you.”

“Oh really? What was it?”

“He said to tell you that your eyes and fur were better than gems and silk. Something like that, anyway.” He replied, and he could swear that Cass would be blushing if she could. “I think he fancies you.”

“Awww…” She cooed. “Well, he was always rather sweet! Although, logistically speaking, a relationship between us would be-!”

“ _John!_ ”

Said ex-army doctor was rather thankful for Sherlock’s distraction, though he was worried what had happened that would cause such a commotion from the consulting detective’s bedroom. He quickly got up and ran through the kitchen, bursting the door open to see if there were any assassins or robbers that he was trying to fight off. Sad to say, it had happened a few times before. 

Instead, it was something else entirely, and Cass immediately brightened when, upon joining them in the room, she cried, “Billy!”

Sherlock, looking frazzled and a bit disoriented, rounded on John as the man stared at the open window to see a very familiar duck sitting on the sill. “John,” He ground out. “That… That _foul_ followed us home!”

John just blinked at him. “Well, now you know to shut the windows, don’t you?” He replied, getting a dark look from Sherlock. “That, and ducks aren’t chickens, Sherlock.” The look went darker. “Just telling you.”

Sherlock sputtered, going silent when he finally noticed Cass as she ran across the room to join the duck on the window sill.

“Will she kill it?” Sherlock asked, slowly stepping closer to the door, where John was standing. “I hope she kills it.”

“Ah, well…” John muttered, trailing off when Cass licked at Billy’s head.

“You little cutie!” She cooed. “John told me what you said. Really, Billy, I don’t think you’ve ever seen gems or silk… or whatever!”

Billy ducked his head underneath a wing. “W-Well yes, I haven’t.” He stuttered. “But I’m sure that your beautiful eyes and fur would be more lovely if I had.”

She cooed a little more, purring loudly and rubbing her head against his side. 

“How…?” Sherlock groused. “How is she so nice to that… that _thing_? She’s a cat, and feral! She should be mauling that duck to bits!”

“Well, Sherlock,” John sighed, patting his friend on the back. “The world is full of wonderful, yet odd things. Very odd.”

“Odd and impossible.”

“Indeed.” He said before grinning up at his tall, exasperated friend. “Well, tea? And perhaps we could spare a few biscuits for our guest?”

“ _No._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, Billy was a squirrel. Then I thought about it and decided, "You know what? Billy's a duck. That's it."
> 
> Is Billy/Cass going to be a real thing? I don't know. I just thought it'd be kinda cute.


	3. Medical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock get kidnapped, so John asks for Harry's help.
> 
> No, not that Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE POSTED A CHAPTER AND I'M SORRY.
> 
> SO HERE YOU GO.

For a while, John thought he was in the clear. After the case where the one witness was Cass’s strange duck… whatever-he-was-to-her, not a single stray animal had approached him in any way. And sure, Sherlock was rather perturbed about John allowing a duck into the flat from time to time when he couldn’t bring over a cow, he no longer seemed to suspect anything. No longer stared at John as if he were a puzzle. He was sure that, to Sherlock, he was back to being just… John. And he was okay with that.

Then they were kidnapped. 

John should’ve known that taking a case for Sherlock’s brother would lead them to trouble. Would lead them to being ambushed at night and thrown into a van. Would lead them to being tied back to back on some concrete floor and feeling every part of his body ache from the manhandling. Would lead to threats of being killed and the like. Typical movie-style kidnapping, really.

Of course, not every movie-style kidnapping involved a dog. 

At first, John was a little fearful of it. It was a bulky, muscular dog with a wrinkly face and a large mouth that seemed to constantly stream drool. It looked like the kind of dog that would instantly tear someone to shreds. 

But after seeing its tail wag in excitement upon seeing its masters and it’s heavy flop to lie on the floor after being told to stay, John had a feeling that he could somehow get help from the massive thing. 

It would be risky, seeing as Sherlock was tied to his back, but unless Mycroft was going to have men surround the building anytime soon, John really didn’t have much of a choice. That, and he saw Sherlock getting hit rather hard on the head by one of their kidnappers. With that knowledge, and judging by the strain and how his back bowed against his, he was sure his friend was still unconscious. He probably shouldn’t be pleased by that, and he knew he’d have to get a good look later, but he was going to use that to his advantage.

“Psst! Hey!” John whispered, seeing the dog’s ears perk at the sound. “Over here!”

The dog grunted a little as it stood, taking its time walking over to him. “Yes?” It spoke, voice sounding incredibly deep and gruff. “Can you actually understand me?”

John just grinned. “Yeah, believe it or not.” He answered, and the dog seemed quite happy.

“Oh, that’s nice! I haven’t met someone like you before!” The dog exclaimed happily, tail wagging with a gusto. “Of course, even then, hardly anyone speaks to me. Name’s Harry, by the by. Any chance of getting yours?”

“John. John Watson.” John greeted. “Pleasure to meet you, Harry.”

Harry seemed to grin as he sat in front of him. “Pleasure to meet you as well, John John Watson!” He stated, tilting his head. “And it seems you met the wrong end of my pa’s fist. I truly apologize for that. He’s got a rather nasty temper. Same goes for your friend, but… Is he alright?”

“I hope so.” John said, craning his head and feeling a little relief when Sherlock was still slouched, clearly still unconscious. “I can’t really tell. But listen, Harry. You probably won’t believe me, but… Your pa is going to kill us.”

“Oh, I know.” Harry replied. “Shame that. I wish he’d stop it, but he doesn’t listen to me.”

He huffed a surprised laugh before he could stop himself. “Well, I really don’t want to get killed today, and I don’t want my friend to die either.” He explained. “So, if it’s not too much trouble, could it be possible for you to maybe help untie us?”

Harry looked wary, which was understandable. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“I promise you, Harry, that I, Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, will make sure you won’t get in trouble.” He stated firmly. “Dogs only get in trouble if they do things like gnaw on furniture or piddle indoors.”

Harry laughed as he moved around to John’s side. “Ah, you’re right, you are!” He crowed, and John felt the dog’s warm, muggy breath on his hands. “Now, let’s see here… My pa’s always been bad at this part, so… Yes!”

John only tensed a little when he felt Harry’s wrinkly jowls touch his hand, feeling some tugging at the ropes before they eventually relaxed and loosened around him. He could’ve dealt with less slobber, but at least his hands were free. 

Immediately, he untied his feet before turning to Sherlock, who had slipped to the side and had fallen like he was simply dead weight. After checking his pulse, however, John was relieved that he wasn’t actually dead and quickly moved on to check his head injury. There was no blood, so that was good, though he had a feeling that Sherlock would be lucky if he managed to get out of this without a concussion.

He heard Sherlock hiss when he dared to graze a finger along the irritated flesh, and John looked at his friend as he began to stir. “John…?”

“Hey, Sherlock.” He replied. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be-.”

He was cut off when Harry, upon noticing Sherlock’s stirring, bent over him and began to lick his face.

“Hello there, lad!” He greeted in between licks as Sherlock flailed. “Name’s Harry. Glad to see you back in the world of the living!”

“Wha-? J-John!” Sherlock sputtered, pushing the dog aside and sitting up, clutching his head as he glared at him. All the while, John was doing his best to control his laughter. “John, what is this mongrel doing?”

“His name’s Harry, and he’s no mongrel.” John answered, giving Harry a scratch at the ears that the dog leaned into happily. “He helped us out.”

“Harry?” Sherlock parroted, brow furrowing just a little more. “You mean like your sister?”

John snorted. “I think it’s more like the wizard, but they’re similar.”

He watched as Sherlock frowned at the dog, even as he lowered his hand from his head. It looked like he wanted to say more, but it seemed that Mycroft’s men finally saw it fit to arrive and storm the stronghold, for the door burst open and several men decked in Kevlar and wielding guns stormed in.

Harry growled at them, shackles raising, but John pinched his ear lightly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” He soothed. “They’re here to help us.”

Harry snorted, and promptly decided to lie down… Right on top of Sherlock’s lap.

The wheeze and groan Sherlock emitted then had John in near hysterics for hours afterward.

**x**

It took quite a bit longer than John thought was necessary for them to get to their flat. Partially because Mycroft wanted to chat, and also because John wanted to make sure Harry was taken care of. Of course, he saw the way Mycroft’s eyes lit up upon seeing the large dog, so he had a feeling that, if the elder Holmes had his way (which was bound to happen), Harry was soon to become one of the most pampered pups in all of the UK.

John was the first to use the facilities when they made it back to Baker Street, which he took great pleasure in only after he made sure to double-check Sherlock’s injuries. He figured that, as soon as he left the facilities, Sherlock would either be sitting in his “corpse pose”, as Cass liked to call it, or eating half of the food in the refrigerator.

What he didn’t expect was to find Cass pacing outside the door. 

“There you are!” She hissed. “I’ve been calling for you for _ages_!”

“Pardon me for wanting to wash up.” John replied, still towel-drying his hair.

“See, this is why I keep telling you both to keep the door open!” She continued, pacing. “I can easily get in there and tell you _important_ things-!”

“What are you talking about?” John cut in, for he was starting to worry.

“It’s Sherlock!” Cass told him. “He’s going through your medical records. _All_ your medical records!”

And John thought that he was going to have a _good_ evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't think of the name for Elliot's owner. Mostly because I was stumped. I might go back and change it once I figure something out (if you have suggestions, let me know!)
> 
> Also, it's my headcanon that Greg Lestrade loves cats, but is highly allergic to them.


End file.
